“Look in the paper, what do I see? Robbery, violence, insanity. Hey girl, we’ve got to get out of this place. There’s got to be something better than this. I need you, but I hate to see you this way. If I were Superman then we’d fly away.” From (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman, written by Ray Davies.

I haven’t met James Gunn, but we have a number of mutual friends, and he’s treated those folks remarkably well. I love his work, but because I do not know him I probably have no right to make the following statement, which, of course, I shall make nonetheless.

If I were James Gunn today (June 30, 2025), I’d be the most nervous person in America.

I hope I’m wrong about that, but holy crap, if he’s a bit concerned right now that would be perfectly understandable. After all, only the entire fate of the American comic book industry is on his shoulders right now. And that includes all those cape movies and teevee shows Disney and Warners have been releasing since Covid.

If Superman (The New Movie) does not meet opening weekend “projections” — currently those projections run between $125 million and $145 million (source: the National Research Group) — the wags, the snooty critics and the incels will pronounce it a bomb. That might make Warner Bros Discovery, or whatever they’re calling themselves this week, a bit hinky. You can trade the combined budgets of any four of these flicks in for a nice crisp brand new one billion dollar bill.

I get that the wags, the snooty critics and the incels loathe cape movies with a passion previously seen in Madame Defarge while she’s knitting before the guillotine. Some big-name moviemakers are so jealous of their success they claim these movies have chased their work out of the theaters. They conveniently forget that cape flicks kept movie theaters alive during and after Covid. That’s how capitalism works, so these pundits must be commies. Amusingly, most of their movies are heroic fantasy just like the cape flicks. Do we need more superhero movies? Well, do we need more gangster flicks? Hypocrisy, thy name is Hollywood. Continue reading “Brainiac On Banjo: Comics At Gunn-Point” →